


It's no better to be safe than sorry

by junebugtwin



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bullying, Character Death, F/M, Found Family, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III Needs a Hug, Propaganda, Suicidal Thoughts, Time Travel, Unreliable Narrator, astrid also needs a hug, but not really, the kids are not alright, things are pretty dark for awhile but they get better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:54:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25448674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junebugtwin/pseuds/junebugtwin
Summary: The first time Hiccup dies, it’s an accident.
Relationships: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III/Astrid Hofferson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 88





	It's no better to be safe than sorry

The first time Hiccup dies it’s an accident.

He was eight, trading cards with a hesitant Fishlegs behind old man Rottooth’s house, near the cliffs. The two of them had just started to hang out occasionally, with Hiccup finally working up the courage to invite the other boy, and Fishlegs having to do the same to accept.

Hiccup placed his Singetail card down carefully, flicking his moss colored eyes up to check Fishlegs face for clues. The poor boy had a terrible poker face, not that Hiccups was any better- he always squinted too hard when he was lying.

Fishlegs lips twitch upwards in a way that meant he probably had a better card, and Hiccup sighed quietly, ready for yet another loss. Despite that, he felt relatively happy, just interacting with another person his age- he had been slowly getting weaned out of his peer groups since they were five, for reasons at the time he hadn’t been able to comprehend. Now he understands it’s because of him- he was born small and early- he’s weak and uncoordinated, and gets sick fairly easily. He has bad aim, even with the light practice knives, no ability to build muscle, and when his dad took him hunting he couldn’t kill a single rabbit.

He’s come to accept that he is wrong about most things- his idea’s sound all good in his head, but as soon as he says them out loud people look at him like they look at Gobber when he spits out his tooth into his cup on accident. And then drinks from it.

For example, after the rabbit incident he spent weeks scavenging and planning and building traps- things that would automatically kill the animals they captured, that way he wouldn’t have to. His dad had clenched his hands and shook his head, eyes shadowed by frustration and disappointment. A real Viking doesn’t let a machine slaughter his prey.

That’s how Hiccup knows he’s broken, even if no one says it with their words- he still doesn’t get it. He _still_ doesn’t get why those traps weren’t a good idea, and he knows his dad can tell.

Hiccup shakes his head slightly, refocusing on the game as Fishlegs placed his card of the ground, grinning in that charming way he oh so rarely did- a sparkle of pride in his eyes. Hiccup smiles despite his loss, something bright and warm circling his ribs- he thinks Fishlegs is brilliant, maybe one of the smartest people in the village- he can hardly believe they’re actually getting along.

The moment doesn’t last, as it usually doesn’t.

Snotlout barges into their private tournament, a semi-bored looking Tuffnut slouching after him, picking at his teeth with a sharp nail.

Immediately Hiccups on edge, and he stands up carefully, holding himself upright- three days ago Blech- the arrow maker- told him he stood like a ‘stupid mouse waiting to get stepped on’, and he wasn’t eager for a repeat performance.

Snotlout’s eyes briefly flicker over to Fishlegs- and the other boy hangs his head shamefully, caught redhanded- before locking onto Hiccups small frame. He sneers, a wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows, and his baby fat face looking much more intimidating because of it. Or maybe that was just because Hiccup knew something unpleasant always resulted in that expression.

“Well look who it is, villages favorite failure hanging out with the villages biggest idiot.” He laughs, though it’s obviously fake. Hiccup scowls- it’s obvious he’s the ‘failure’ (and something in his chest squeezes at the fact that it’s common knowledge now) but that would mean he’s calling Fishlegs an idiot! Fishlegs might not think of him as a friend, but Hiccup knew that despite his shyness the boy was definitely not stupid.

Fishlegs hunches his shoulders, like he’s trying to make his broad body smaller under the harsh words, tears appearing at the corner of his eyes. Ultimately that’s what angers Hiccup the most- he can barely see straight though his rage, and in an uncommon show of bravery he steps forward, chest puffed up.

“Fishlegs is plenty smart! If anyone’s stupid around here it’s you- you’re the one who can’t read books for babies!” He mocks meanly, baring his teeth aggressively. It’s a well-known- but completely unspoken fact among their peer group that Snotlout has problems with literacy, and if he were anyone else- or even if Hiccup weren’t so mad- he would never say such a terrible thing. But he is, and he did, and Snotlout rewards the comment with a full blown snarl, his cheeks reddening in anger and embarrassment.

“What do you know! You’re the stupidest one here! Can’t lift a sword, can’t hunt, can’t do anything- my parents say- say you’ll die soon and the village will get a better heir!” He yells back, tone defensive and hurt, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Fishlegs blinks, eyes going as wide as his name sake, and reaches his arm out momentarily, before dropping it back to his side. Tuffnut stops examining his nails, glancing at Snotlout in an almost offended manner, head cocked slightly. Hiccup might be actually warmed by their reactions if he noticed- unfortunately he has no room in his head for that sort of thing.

All Hiccup can do is panic. Because he knows Snotlouts _right_ \- he’s thought it before- heard it whispered, seen it in the bags under his father’s eyes, the dismissive tilt of Astrids head. When the dragons come, he’s going to fight, like a Viking, and then he’ll die, like a Viking- except it’s him, and he’s _not_ a Viking, everyone knows it, said it, thought it, so he’ll be dead and no one will miss him and all it will be is a _relief_.

And after the panic becomes anger- _because_ \- because how dare he?! How dare Snotlout present that like it’s not something Hiccup doesn’t already know- how dare he say it so casually, like it’s any other insult- when he’s- when Hiccups going to _die_ \- die- and be _dead_ \- like his mom- no more playing in the cold ocean water, or awkward dinners with his dad, no more laughing with Gobber, or occasional moments of fun with Fishlegs- no more birds flying overhead and no more tiny bugs crawling on his shoes-no more lifting his hand to block sunlight, or sticking his tongue out to catch wayward snowflakes, no more breathing, and no more running, and no more smelling or looking or hearing- how can that be so easy for Snotlout to say- how can it be so _satisfying_ \- if someone told him Snotlout was going to die for sure, and there was nothing anyone could do he’d actually _cry_. How repulsive and weak and sniveling must Hiccup be, that anyone can just tell him that, like he’s not a person, just a thing.

So Hiccup pushes the bigger boy, making him stumble backwards into a wall, bumping his head with a yelp. Fishlegs looks shocked, but underneath the expression he’s pleased, and Tuffhnut doesn’t even bother to back his friend up, folding his arms across his chest like it’s no longer his business, even though he usually loves to gang up on Hiccup.

Snotlout lets out a ferocious yell- half hatred and half surprise- Hiccup hasn’t fought back for a very long time. It’s majorly embarrassing- humiliating even, that he’d gotten a hit on him, even if a minor one- especially in front of an audience.

So he doesn’t think through what he’s about to do, all he thinks about is his parents finding out about this, and their disappointed faces- about his brothers mocking laugh.

He charges at Hiccup with a ferocious howl, and pushes his body into the smaller boy with all of his force, which is not much now. Or it wouldn’t be- if Hiccup didn’t skip his meals, too busy exploring or avoiding, if Hiccup wasn’t a premature baby, if he wasn’t knobbly knees and skin and bones.

But he is. And it’s enough to push him

right over the cliff.

It happens almost too fast after that. Hiccups perspective dives downward and his stomach lurches and he screams high pitched with panic. The wind pushes through his ears relentlessly, louder than anything he’s ever heard before- louder than his father’s booming voice, or the crack of a building falling down, or a dragon roaring. It’s certainly louder than Snotlouts own shout of desperation, louder than the sounds of Tuffnut scrambling over to the cliff a few seconds too late, louder than Fishlegs boot steps as he races towards the nearest adult he can find.

It’s almost loud enough to drown out the sharp and grisly crack of Hiccups body hitting the navy waters before. Almost.

Hiccups vision doesn’t go black so much as he just doesn’t have vision for a moment. It’s not a color, it’s a lack of color- a sight- or rather lack-of-sight, that he never forgets but somehow can never put words to.

It doesn’t hurt for very long, though the moment it does it’s agony- a pain radiating sharply from his back, cracking through the rest of him like a hammer hitting a wedge through stone. His ‘last’ thoughts are that he doesn’t want to die.

And he doesn’t- or rather- it doesn’t stick.

Hiccup blinks and suddenly he has his vision back, and Snotlout is glaring at him, lips moving as he forms the words ‘my parents say-‘ and Hiccup simply stares for a few moments, horrified and confused.

Sometimes Hiccup daydreams, sometimes he can’t get his head out of the clouds, can’t stop thinking of what-if’s and hypotheticals, and crazy solutions he thinks are smart but must actually be stupid- but it has _never_ been like that.

He’s always known he was staring off into space- always known what was real and what wasn’t- but what he just saw- the fall off the cliff and the wind and the sharp crack- that was _real_. It felt real. It had to be.

Maybe he’s crazy- he thinks, hands shaking and sweat breaking down his back. Or maybe this whole thing was a dream. Or maybe it happened- and if it did- if it did- he doesn’t know what to do if it did.

He doesn’t know why he’s back. Plenty of people have died, and plenty of people have probably wished not to die, and all of them were better than he was- the Gods would never waste their powers on him. But-

“What- nothing to say?!” Snotlout snaps, interrupting his train of thought. He sounds just as aggressive as he was before, but there’s a bit of nervousness to his body language now- like he just realized what he said. Calling him worthless and stupid and weak was fine, but insinuating that he should die would probably get him in trouble with Hiccups father if he told, a realization which Hiccup can see slowly leak into the other boy’s expression.

Hiccup has been quiet for too long. He has to-to say something. But not something crazy- if this is real, then- then he can’t say stuff that might get him locked up in the healers hut permanently.

“Whatever.” He tries to huff, but it comes out shaky and rough, almost like he’s on the verge of tears- which he isn’t, weirdly. He thinks, despite it all, crying would be an appropriate reaction to have in this situation, but something in him is a little too shocked to cry. He feels like his brain is on loop, going ‘what?’ ‘what?’ ‘what?’ over and over again- he doesn’t have room for much else.

Snotlout looks almost taken aback by his tone for one moment, before letting out an overly exaggerated huff.

“Y-yeah, now get- uh- get out of here idiot.” He stammers slightly, kicking his boot awkwardly. Hiccup is more than happy to comply; charging away from that cliff like his life depends on it.

-

Hiccup has many sleepless nights after that. He spends most of his time in his house, locked in his room and curled under blankets, trying not to cry and failing. He’s not sure if his dad cares or even notices his change in behavior- he thinks maybe he might investigate one night, when he can hear his father’s intimidating footsteps make their way up the stairs, and for one moment he’s more pleased than panicked, before he remembers he has no cover story for his behavior and freaks out slightly.

But it’s a false alarm, after a moment of silence he stomps back down the stairs, probably having just been retrieving some piece of equipment from one of their storage rooms. Hiccup tries not to let that experience affect him, tries not to think of his father not even going to his funeral or visiting his grave marker. He does not succeed in this endeavor particularly.

Eventually, after many days of wracking his brain for answers, and even more of trying to forget what dying felt like, he comes to a conclusion.

He has some sort of power- the kind of thing he thought was only made up to make stories sound more exciting- and it means that he will come back if he’s killed. He’s not sure how many chances he gets- if he’s essentially immortal, or if this is a one chance type of thing. He’s not eager to find out.

He’s shamed deeply by it, because most Vikings would take this gift and run with it- throw themselves into danger without fear, become a legend in their own right. But Hiccup can’t- he can’t forget the absolute fear that had pumped his heart so hard it hurt, nor the pain that blazed through him- harsh enough that he could feel several of his bones breaking in an agonizing symphony.

The last thing he wants to do is die again.

So when his father finally does have enough, or maybe finally notices, and pushes him outdoors Hiccup is terrified.

It’s ironic, considering he died by heights, but he spends most of his time camped out in trees or on top of buildings, scampering around like a frightened squirrel. The fall may have been what killed him, but the cliff didn’t push him off itself, and would have otherwise been harmless to him, someone whose only physical skill is balance and caution.

No it’s people that he’s scared off- all of them living here are killers, even if it is only dragons they kill- something he’d never really thought about until recently, for obvious reasons. Hiccup felt unsafe around other villagers before, but he was mostly worried that they’d hit him or shove him or even just scoff at him- he never considered the fact that all of them- _any_ of them- could easily murder him.

So he avoids people like the plague- Snotlout in particular gets that treatment- if Hiccup so much as hears his voice he bolts wildly in the other direction, jumping and climbing and running much more frantically than he ever did, even while training. Something in him seems to think seeing Snotlout again will result in another brutal demise, which while he can’t blame- isn’t very helpful.

Eventually- after a few weeks of this, he relaxes enough to walk around on the ground like a normal human, and even to be in the presence of other people without feeling like he’s putting himself in direct danger. He still gets extremely uncomfortable around Snotlout, but it’s much better than before.

He never asks Fishlegs to play cards with him again.

-

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment any questions you might have! :)


End file.
